Political correctness or measured language: for many anxious communities, words count

As a convert to paraplegia, I feel myself fortunate to have suffered a life-changing injury when the principle that disabled people should be included in all aspects of life was widely accepted

‘It’s easy to forget that disability rights and support were won in a hard fought battle that continues today.’ Picture – Writer Tim Rushby-Smith (centre) teaching basic and practical wheelchair skills.
Photograph: Tom Jenkins for the Guardian

As the implications of the success of Donald Trump’s particularly toxic brand of divisive rhetoric reverberate around the world, it is a reminder that the language used by elected politicians has a big impact on the standard and fairness of political discourse throughout society at a time when many communities are anxious about what will constitute the new social norm.

In Australia, recent accusations in parliament of “political correctness” raise the question: do we want our political representatives using measured language when discussing matters of policy? The push to bring inflammatory language into the mainstream represents a shift in the balance of power that has the potential to impact on the prevailing “givens” that we have become used to.

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Here is an example. As a convert to paraplegia, I feel myself fortunate to have suffered a life-changing injury when the principle that disabled people should be included in all aspects of life was widely accepted. This represents a shift in attitudes away from the old “medical model of disability”, in which disability was seen as something “wrong” with the individual. By contrast, the “social model of disability” views a lack of inclusion as a problem with the way society is organised.

Things are far from perfect, as even the most cursory glance at statistics on poverty and unemployment among disabled people will reveal, but the launch of the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) is a clear signal that there is a general acceptance of the principals of social inclusion and empowerment.

With a political lurch to the right however, it is not impossible to imagine a scenario where a costly scheme like NDIS gets dragged into a bruising political fight over the “nanny state”, tough fiscal decisions, and individual responsibilities (I read a post on an NDIS discussion complaining that people’s comments were too negative and that we should all be grateful that we don’t live in India).

One of the important changes that the NDIS represents is a move away from a model of support for disabled people that is significantly dependent on the charity sector.

Don’t misunderstand me; I have no problem with charity fundraising, supporting people in need or increasing awareness about different diseases and/or the hardships that people face every day.

But when people are dependent on provision by charity for basic resources and support, it can create a culture whereby organisations or individuals have to present themselves as needy or worthy of pity in order to raise enough money. This risks making progress towards increased independence and autonomy into things that can undermine funding streams in the future. NDIS offers the opportunity to move away from this potential pitfall. If you believe that such support is the responsibility of good, inclusive government, then gratitude shouldn’t come into it.

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It’s easy to forget that disability rights and support were won in a hard fought battle that continues today, in the same way as anti-discrimination laws designed to protect other minorities. Yes, playground banter is still punctuated with occasional cries of “spastic” and “retard”, but for the most part this stems from an ignorance as to the origins and meanings of these words, and they would no longer be considered socially acceptable in the public arena.

Incidentally, if you see no problem with these expressions, ask yourself this: would you be happy to see a child with cerebral palsy or Down’s syndrome vilified in this way? No? OK, so how do you go about explaining to children that they can use these terms so long as the target of their teasing doesn’t have an obvious disability?

The same principles apply to racism, sexism and homophobia. Most people would agree that school is the right place to challenge children to think about the kind of language they use. It’s a public arena where kids learn about mutual respect, a principal we hope they will take into the wider world. Teaching that lesson is made harder when the language of politics is indistinguishable from the cruelty of the playground. It’s time our elected officials raised their game.